


Waiting

by Vera_dAuriac



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Childhood Memories, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sibling Incest, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_dAuriac/pseuds/Vera_dAuriac
Summary: Louis and Philippe have a special bond they share with no one else. It started with porridge.





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Since I have no idea who the Nonny at tumblr is who suggested this fic, I can't gift it to said person, but that is who I'd like to dedicate it to. This isn't a kink I thought I'd ever write, but you made such a good character driven case based in canon, I had to do it. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> This can take place pretty much any time, and I don't think there are spoilers.
> 
> I don't own these folks; just having some fun with them.

**By Vera d'Auriac**

 

“Louis! Where are we going?”

Philippe had just about had enough of Louis riding God only knew where through the forest while refusing to say where they were headed. All he had said to his brother when they set out from Versailles was that he wanted to go on a long ride, just the two of them. They stopped about a half an hour out at Louis’s favorite overlook to share a wineskin and stretch their legs, but when they had remounted, Louis had headed farther away from Versailles and refused to say where they were going.

“We’re nearly there. Just hold on a little longer,” Louis said over his shoulder to where Philippe had been forced by the narrowness of the path.

“I should hope so. We’ve gone more than far enough, and that wine has gone right through me.”

Louis glanced back again with a smirk that knocked the wind out of Philippe. “As I said, hold on just a little longer.”

“No. No, no, no. I’m not in the mood today, Louis.”

“And why ever not? I, frankly, have been aching for it for weeks. Surely you, if no one else, has noticed I could use something to soothe my temper.”

Philippe sighed. Of course, he had noticed. And if his brother was so naïve as to think every single solitary soul at court hadn’t noticed, he was clearly losing his mind. Philippe sympathized. He understood pressure and expectations all too well, even though his own paled in comparison to Louis’s. And these secret moments, full of both taboo and a return to their childhood, often brought as much relief to Philippe’s life as they did his brother’s. Still, he did not know if he wanted to acquiesce to Louis’s demand. Although, he supposed the last time had been at his behest, and he hadn’t given Louis much of a choice.

“Well, I suppose if we’ve ridden all this way,” Philippe sighed.

“And we wouldn’t want to waste all of that wine.”

The purr with which Louis said those words was enough to send a shiver though Philippe’s body on this warm summer day. This was something they only shared with one another, and they could so infrequently indulge themselves. Not that Philippe necessarily saw that as a bad thing. The rarity made it all the more special, and he couldn’t help remembering that it had not been since Bontemps’s last visit to his wife that Philippe had been able to sneak into Louis’s bedroom where he blessedly slept alone for a change. The memory of Louis’s pleas until the yellow stained his white nightgown while Philippe leaned over him panting made him start to grow hard. Which he guessed, based on Louis’s mood, would be an encumbrance.

“It’s just around the corner, brother,” said Louis not much later.

When Philippe cleared the turning, he saw Louis’s destination and could not contain his laugh. The building by the stream was rotting and looked as though it might collapse at any moment, doors and windows askew, but Philippe knew it immediately. “This was the…second fort? No, the third.”

“The fourth, actually,” Louis said, pulling his horse to a stop and leaping off. “I was out this way recently with Jacques, and I saw that it was still here, and no matter how derelict the frame might appear, the table inside is still entirely sturdy.”

“A table?” Philippe asked with a raised eyebrow. “That sounds exceedingly comfortable, and I hope you can hear every ounce of sarcasm in my voice as I speak those words.” All the same, Philippe jumped from his saddle and followed Louis to where he was tying up his own horse. As they stood side by side, Philippe whispered, “I really have to go. I honestly don’t know that I can wait.”

Louis rubbed his forefinger along his throat while he brushed his thumb across his chin. “Then we had better hurry.”

Philippe quickly dipped his head and caught Louis’s thumb between his teeth and gave it a swift bite before answering, “Yes. We had better.”

With a slowly spreading grin, Louis led the way inside. The old mill smelled stuffy, but Louis crossed the packed earth floor to the other side to push open a window that faced the stream, still running high from the spring rains. In the middle of the floor was a small drain and to Philippe’s right was a large, and as promised, sturdy looking table. They could both easily lie on it together if they wished. He had to admire Louis’s acumen, picking this place to take him out riding. It had everything they needed—far enough from Versailles no one would happen upon it, a suitable piece of furniture to make things comfortable, and even a drain. Philippe grinned, thinking that it seemed almost as though his brother may have been searching for a location for this very activity.

“You’ve closed and locked the door?” Louis asked as he spun back around.

Without really thinking, Philippe had pushed the door closed, but locking had not come to mind. He did so now, the metallic click setting his prick twitching. “Anything else you need, your majesty?” He snorted and Louis laughed as well, titles never more a joke than at these moments. Probably because this little deviancy of theirs came into being during the most brotherly moments of their lives.

In some ways, it started with the famous porridge incident. What began as a food fight ended in the two of them rolling on the floor, pissing on each other. At that age, it was all rage and brotherly rivalry, and yet it stuck with them. Then one night during the Frond when he was around twelve and Louis fourteen, their mother had sent them to bed, trying to convince them they were not in as much danger as they were. They huddled alone on Louis’s bed, listening to the sound of soldiers and screaming and gunfire outside, until one of the guards—and old grizzled man who had fought for their father—had come in, and told them not to leave the bed. In that moment they had clung together more tightly, and Louis had whispered, “I need to relieve myself.”

Philippe had wrapped his arms around Louis, somehow certain that the sheet and blankets would keep them safe, because the old soldier, who had survived all of his battles, had told them they would be safe if they stayed in bed. “It’s not safe to get up.”

“But I have to go.”

“Then go. But do not leave here. We are safe here. Together.”

And then Louis had opened his bladder. It had clearly been a great relief for Louis, but he immediately started to show signs of embarrassment. Before those feelings could take hold, Philippe hugged him, kissed his temple, and said, “That’s so much better, isn’t it? And no one will hurt us here.” Not long after, Philippe had followed suit, once more pissing on his brother, the King of France, and yet it was nothing like anything that had happened to either of them before.

Ever since, they had gone through life with this unspoken understanding. Philippe did not wish to examine it too closely, and he had to assume Louis did not either. So, occasionally, moments arose. And they pissed on each other. While fucking. And Philippe received no greater thrill than at those times.

Louis was untying the lace that flowed from his neck, and Philippe froze and watched him, marveling at his deft, thin fingers and the smooth neck they revealed. At least until Louis cleared his throat and Philippe shook himself. “Yes. Sorry,” he said and began undressing as well.

“You have not seemed yourself, either, brother,” Louis said as he hung his jacket on a peg in the wall and held out his hand for Philippe to pass his over as well. “If I am not mistaken, this will be good for you, too.”

In truth, the Chevalier had been driving him mad again, but if there was one person he and Louis did not discuss, the Chevalier was said man. And he had no need to talk about his relationship—what he and Louis were about to do would be so much better than words. He would achieve so much release, as would Louis, and even though the Chevalier would be entirely too jealous to admit as much if he knew, he would reap the benefits of what Philippe did here today.

“I think you are right,” said Philippe with a sad grin. “I am world weary and need my brother.” He paused in his undressing to settle his hand on Louis’s cheek, who nuzzled it quickly before shrugging off his shoulder a bag he then placed on the table. “Dare I ask what’s in there?”

“All of the accoutrement we need. I suspect you are familiar with everything.

Philippe chuckled, certain he would be surprised by nothing Louis pulled out. They both quickened their pace of undressing now, no wasted movements spared for caresses or even talk. After all, what would they say? They knew why they were here and what they would do, and most importantly, what they needed. Even as far as they had ridden from the palace, they could be found at any moment. They had no time to spare.

As Philippe draped his breeches and underclothes on the edge of the table, Louis, completely naked pressed up against him pinning him to the table. Of course, Philippe was bigger and stronger, so Louis could only pin him when Philippe wished it. His breath caught as sticky pre-cum marked his thigh. He wished it.

“Can you reach the bag?” Louis asked as though he was requesting the salt at table. The bag, in fact, sat within Philippe’s grasp, so he plucked it up and handed it to his brother. From inside Louis took a large bottle of oil and a small phallus. “Would you like to get this ready?” Louis asked, handing both items to Philippe. As Philippe uncorked the bottle and prepared the phallus, Louis pulled two more phalluses from the bag, one a bit bigger than the one he current spread oil on, and the other slightly larger than that.

Philippe grinned, but said nothing, this tic of Louis’s being something that actually amused him. The two of them were about to fuck and piss on each other, but the idea of either of them getting their fingers anywhere near each other’s behinds was too much for Louis. Philippe thought what a terrible full-time sodomite his brother would have made, the world likely better off that he was the brother to whom it came naturally.

Louis set the two phalluses on the edge of the table and tossed the bag against the wall. “Is that ready?”

“Yes,” Philippe said with a smirk and setting the oil next to the other phalluses. He then held the oiled phallus up between their faces. “Shall I? Or would you like to do the honors?”

“I will.” Louis plucked it from Philippe’s grasp and reached around, their bodies pressed together. This simple intimacy, their flesh touching, something they both enjoyed, but only Philippe would admit to liking. Louis pushed the phallus in slowly, but once he had it all the way inside, knew he had it right based on the resistance he felt and Philippe’s gasp, he commenced sliding it back and forth. Philippe held himself up with his left hand braced against the edge of the table and the other clutched Louis’s shoulder.

“God, that feels good.”

“But does it feel like you are loosening up?” Louis asked with a singlemindedness only he could achieve. “I need to get inside you before you…well, I want to be inside you when you go.” He dropped his head to Philippe’s chest and worked the phallus faster. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about for a week. Do you remember when I snapped at Louvois in counsel and told him to repeat himself? It was because I missed what he said—I was thinking about this too exclusively.”

Philippe pushed back on the phallus, now wanting his brother inside him as soon as possible. “I’m ready for the next,” he panted.

“Are you sure?”

Philippe was sure that he actually wasn’t, but if he concentrated hard enough, he had learned a little about relaxing his muscles to, well, accommodate things. “I think this is rather my area of expertise for any number of reasons, don’t you?”

“Very well. Put the oil on the next one.”

With trembling fingers, Philippe picked up the middle phallus. But his hand and the cork in the oil bottle were slick and he could not pull it out. Finally with a roar, he bit the cork and yanked it out with his teeth. Spilling more than he should, he coated the phallus, and said, “Get that thing the hell out of my way.” Louis complied, and Philippe reached behind himself and pushed the phallus in. His head fell back and Louis swiftly kissed his neck.

“Are you alright?”

“Quite. Are you going to move this thing, or should I?”

Louis took over, as Philippe quivered, this phallus long enough reach what was important inside. His poor cock didn’t know want to do. It was growing stiffer, even though he desperately needed to relieve himself. And then a pattern emerged—just when he thought he would orgasm any second, he would shift and his bladder would assert its claim and he would start to soften, but never go entirely limp. It was excruciating and awful, and glorious and sensual, and he wanted to feel everything at once, but most of all he wanted Louis’s prick in his ass.

“Fuck, Louis, how are you still holding on?”

“Knowing what wonders await me gives me strength.”

Philippe groaned, his eyes closed, trying to concentrate on both the sensation and holding on. But every time the phallus brushed the spot within him, he wanted to scream. After far too brief a time, he growled, “Next one. Now.”

“No,” Louis said in a flat tone belied by the hot breath he exhaled on Philippe’s neck. “I will not hurt you to make real a fantasy. I will make you ready for me, and if you cannot hold out, I will simply have to learn to live with that particular disappointment.”

“But I don’t want to disappoint you,” Philippe said, pushing back on the phallus. “I want your fantasy as much as you do.”

“Then hold on with all you’ve got. And get the next one ready.” Louis worked the phallus harder and faster, and Philippe’s erection grew as he indiscriminately dumped oil on a phallus nearly the size of Louis’s prick.

Louis maintained his rhythm longer than Philippe would have thought possible before removing the phallus altogether. Instantly, the urge to urinate overpowered sexual desire, and his erection started to falter. That is until Louis pushed the largest phallus inside. Wordless moans escaped toward the beams of the ceiling, Philippe’s head thrown back, knees bent, plunging to meet every thrust.

“Up on the table,” Louis said. Philippe didn’t understand until his brother’s hands wrapped around his waist and hoisted him up on the edge of the table. “Lie back,” he said, and Philippe did so.

From this angle, Louis could push and pull the phallus, and Philippe could twitch without thought. That is until his bladder once more demand his attention, and he propped himself up, arms straight, but body angled back. “Now, Louis. It has to be now.”

“Can you promise I won’t hurt you?”

“Nothing could hurt as much as holding on any longer! Do it now!”

Louis spun the phallus and gave it two more meaningful jerks before removing it. Philippe’s mind had scattered, the feeling of being empty behind and prick battling with bladder for who should release first, distracting him utterly. Then his focus returned to a single point as Louis’s oiled prick pushed inside him. Philippe had no idea when Louis had applied the oil, but he had a feeling he had missed a great deal as his body fought with overwhelming sensations.

Philippe pushed himself as upright as he could without impeding Louis’s glorious thrusts. He tried to look his brother in the eye, but his own continually rolled back in his head. Besides, Louis was not looking at his face—instead concentrating on where their bodies met. And then Louis, who had been gripping Philippe’s hips, let go of one side and brushed his fingers across Philippe’s stomach. Then he pushed down, right on Philippe’s bladder, and there was nothing he could do.

It started to rush out of him, most splashing back on his stomach. Louis leaned forward and angled Philippe’s prick up just a touch so the spray would fall equally on both their abdomens. The release was heavenly, even though it hurt slightly because he had held out so long. But Philippe’s senses were overcome, his own relief vying with the feeling of Louis inside, and he shivered and moaned, allowed Louis complete control of his body, since he could do nothing with it of his own volition. He felt relieved and full and warm.

Louis grabbed both of Philippe’s hips again when he finished going, both now soaked but not so slippery that Louis could not get a firm grip as he pushed and moaned his way to orgasm.

Philippe collapsed back on his elbows, panting. Louis fell on top of Philippe as closely as the angle permitted, gasping and twitching. Of course, his body rubbed against Philippe’s prick and his cock still spasmed inside, and soon Philippe, his bladder blissfully empty, began to grow hard once more.

Louis clearly felt it as he nuzzled Philippe’s chest, and then rubbed meaningfully over it with his stomach. “Can you stand up?”

“Not with your cock in my ass.”

“I suppose not,” Louis chuckled. He straightened up slowly and took a step back, sliding from inside Philippe. “Can you get up now?”

Philippe twisted one corner of his mouth in a grin. “Perhaps. I might be a little wobbly, though. Do you think you could support me?”

“I know exactly what to hold on to.” Of course, Louis wrapped his hand around Philippe’s cock, which was almost fully erect again. With his bladder taken care of, he realized just how much he wanted whatever his brother might be offering.  


Sliding off the table, Philippe pushed his body against his brother’s, both of them supremely wet and sticky, and loving the sensation, forbidden sex mingled with memories of childhood. “I think you have uncovered that I have a new problem. Can you help me with it?”

Louis started stroking Philippe unhurriedly, humming softly against Philippe’s shoulder. “Is this the sort of help you were hoping for?”

It was precisely the help he wanted. He supposed there were other sexual acts he preferred, but taking another in your hand felt somehow more adolescent than, say, Louis getting on his knees and sucking Philippe. These were the sorts of first fumblings boys experienced together, and Philippe loved doing them with his brother. And as he grew close, because in this moment, his body already so sensitive and ready it would never have taken long, Louis pushed his own prick against Philippe’s thigh. But it was not to stimulate himself again—he had drunk his share of wine at the overlook as well, and now that he had spent, he could relieve himself as well. The first trickle running down his thigh, coupled with Louis’s increased pace, and Philippe found himself clinging to Louis’s shoulders as he came on his brother and himself.

They stood holding each other, filthy and satisfied, neither ever having anything especially eloquent to say in these moments. It was enough that they had experienced their double releases with each other and been reminded of another time they mythologized. Eventually, Philippe pulled his brother into a proper hug, which Louis returned with his arms encircling Philippe’s waist.

Philippe squeezed tighter, but then realized the mess coating his hands. “Oh, sorry. I’ve just gotten I know not what in your hair.”

Louis laughed. “That is to be expected.”

“Your majesty?”

“Your majesty!”

They stood up straight and looked at each other with matching wide eyes. Someone, palace guards if their raspy yells were any indication, had spotted their horses, and now wandered about outside. Louis, however, quickly smiled with a twinkle in his eye as he pulled back casually from Philippe. “Fancy going for a swim?” He then swept all of their accessories back into the bag and headed for a door in the back corner Philippe had not noticed until this moment.

“You really thought of everything when you picked this spot!” Philippe said, genuinely impressed.

“Indeed, I did.” He pushed open the door, which opened directly on the stream. With one step, he jumped into the water. Philippe followed, laughing, and splashing his brother the moment he hit the water. “Back here!” Louis called. “My brother and I are having a swim!”


End file.
